Nothing seems to matter now, any thing I say is held agents me. Belting my self to a pipe, and waiting the storm? Or cut the leather, and ride the wind. See where it lands me.
I am born, I live and I die.
Tell me of how I live.
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Friday, 22 October 2004 Nothing seems to matter now, any thing I say is held agents me. Belting my self to a pipe, and waiting the storm? Or cut the leather, and ride the wind. See where it lands me. I am born, I live and I die. Tell me of how I live.
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